Creative Writing Story Revised Version

Christoph struggled to make sense of it all. His body lay limp on the floor as the lift lowered him back to the ground floor; the effects of the drug were begging to take effect. He closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. If he could just get home and leave this all behind, maybe it would blow over. No, he thought. That was a naive thought; he was now accomplice to the murder of the most powerful person in the world, there was no walking away from this. The elevator dinged, announcing he had reached the ground floor, daylight forced its way through reluctant cracks in Christoph’s eyes. The doors slide open. It took him a moment to process the sight he saw before him. Christoph’s heart both sank and jolted; the lobby that had been swarming with people not 20 minutes ago was now silent. Blood flecked the ground and walls, bodies littered the pristine marble floor, their torsos sprayed with bullets. In the center of the lobby, walking with an eerie calmness toward Christoph was the mysterious man dressed in black.

Christoph mustering all the strength he could, scrambled to his knees, but lost his balance and fell out of the lift clumsily onto the floor. “Relax, Mr Newter. If I wanted you to come to harm I would not of written you that helpful note.” The man explained.

Christoph felt angry, for the first time since he was entangled in this debacle he felt genuinely angry. He had not wanted to play any part in whatever cause the events that had transpired were trying to achieve. He did not want to murder anyone, or lose his friend. And yet he had been thrown into the center of things. “So. What are you?” Christoph said scornfully, “Terrorists? Insurgents?” He questioned, his hands balling into fists. The man laughed, “No-no, I do not believe I am any of those, nor are my followers. We might be likened to something in the way of…divine intervention…” The man replied.

“DO NOT GIVE ME THAT.” Christoph screamed, “You are not gods of any kind! You are not holy or invulnerable I have seen one of you die! You are corrupt politicians at best and cowards!” Christoph vented, shaking with rage but his eyes watering. “If we can be killed, why does that not make us gods? Are we not able to create and destroy? Do we not preside over this world? The ground you are lying on is built in the name of a god, this very building serves as a temple. Just because we are not immortal does not mean we are not at least in some way akin to the gods.” The man versed, his usual expressionless face gave no indication of his intentions.

“We. You say ‘we’ as if you are a god also.” Christoph pointed out. In his internal rage he had not fully connected the disjunct dots in his mind. The man laughed.

“Christoph, I thought it was obvious; I am Hades.”

Christoph froze, his anger extinguished he could only stare speechlessly at the figure dressed in black. “W-”

“Why?” Hades interjected “That is a longer story than I care to get into, but it is fair to say many people other than me wished death upon the totalitarian rule the ‘Advocates’ had over this dominion. Your friend Arty was one of them…although in the end he failed in his job. Either way deliveries today have been made to each of the remaining advocates, some couriers knew of the contents of the packages, some, like you, did not.” Hades explained.

“So what now?” Christoph asked, beyond shock or surprise.

Hades let out a smile for the first time since Christoph had run into him,

“It’s a new world, Newtie. Try not to get in my way and you might end up alive.” Hades turned and walked toward the doors, Christoph tried to struggle to his feet but fell. “The pill I gave you should wear off soon; nothing serious just an emetic and a weak sedator. I have some loose ends to tie. Some of the advocates are alive and I need to fix that.

Goodbye, Christoph.”

Christoph watched Hades walk out the door onto the street, he tried to keep his eyes open but their weight was too much and fell out of consciousness. To awake in a new changed world.